Tristan’s grin grows wider. “It means Amelia is mine, and she’s only on this date in the first place because I allowed her to come.”
Heat washes over my face. Oh my God, he’s really doing this.
I should have known.
“Is that right?” Seth's eyes probe into mine.
“No,” I say immediately. “He’s not supposed to be here. The only reason?—”
I halt at the warmth of Tristan’s hand on my thigh. He leans in my direction, hovering over me like he’s my damn boyfriend.
I wish his touch didn’t feel so damn good.
“Don’t get sassy with me, Amelia.” Tristan leans closer to my ear and whispers, “Not if you want that ten K.”
Rage pulses through my veins. I grab Tristan’s hand and lift it off my thigh as I scoot my chair to the side.
He smirks once more, clearly unaffected by my anger.
“So, Seth…” Tristan smiles sweetly. “Tell me what you like about Amy.”
Seth’s eyes grow wide, and embarrassment prickles over my skin. “Don’t ask him stupid fucking questions like that. You’re not my dad.”
Tristan grins, lightly kicking my foot with his own. “I’d love to be your daddy.”
When I cover my face with my palms, Tristan chuckles. “Tell me, Seth. I’m curious.”
“Uh…” Seth laughs nervously, and I want to crawl into a ball and die. “I think she’s really pretty.”
Reallypretty. He must be exaggerating because he’s uncomfortable.
Tristan runs his fingers through my hair, but I keep my face hidden in my hands. “Oh, she’s gorgeous, but is that all you like about her?”
I set my hands down and whip my head in Tristan’s direction. “This is literally our first time hanging out. Stop being a weirdo.”
Tristan grins. “Oh, but the first time I hung out with you, there were a lot of things I liked about you. Loved, really. You outlined for me exactly why you don’t like football, do you remember that?”
My mind goes blank. Does he really remember our first conversation? I lean forward, my intrigue getting the better of me. “What did I say?”
His smile grows wistful, his eyes vacant, as if he’s seeing into the past. “You said if you can’t understand what’s going on in the first half hour, it’s an ‘objectively inferior sport.’ Those were your exact words. You said you understand soccer and basketball just fine on first viewing. You’ve never been able to understand football. You said sports should be free of nuance. They’re primal, you said.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Do you remember every damn thing I’ve ever said?”
His eyes grow bright. “I probably do. I haven’t gotten enough of you over the years, so I’ve run the few moments I’ve had with you in my head over and over again. It was all I had, so I treasured it.”
My heart squeezes like a vise. Why does he do this to me? That’s maybe the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me, and yet I can’t trust it.
As if the spell is broken, Tristan’s tender gaze fades, and he leans back into his chair. “Anyway, I kind of agreed with her that sports should be primal. They’re sort of our outlet for our animal aggression.” He smiles. “I didn’t like that she insulted my sport, but I loved that she made me think about it in a way I never had before. And, Seth—” he lowers his chin “—that was the first time I ever talked to Amy. So I think it’s a fair question to ask what you like about her.”
Seth’s cheeks are a little pink. Damn Tristan for making him so uncomfortable.
Yet at the same time, I’m grateful he shared this with me. I’m not crazy. Even when I know he’s lying to me, how could I not start liking a man who remembers with accuracy a trivial conversation we had as sophomores in high school?
“Alright, well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Tristan stands up from the table and grabs his backpack. “Don’t get too cuddly with him, Amelia.” His eyes grow intense, sending me a silent message.
We have an agreement.
Thank God, I don’t actually believe in our agreement. If I really thought I’d be getting that ten K, I’d be on the floor panting like a dog if Tristan commanded me to do it.
